


The Library at Fifth Avenue

by wisia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cap_Ironman Reverse Bang Challenge, Depression, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7127261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark was born without a heart. Instead, he had a gaping hole that burnt a fire blue and cold. No one knew why except for Howard Stark. If he had said a word about it then this would be a very different story. Unfortunately, Howard didn’t even remember the cure. But as anyone knows, if you have a question, go to the library (not google).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Library at Fifth Avenue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elphiethesane](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=elphiethesane).



> This was a trial to write, not because of the story but because of the time. I had to ask for an extension, and even then I’m not sure I had enough time to do the wonderful art that Erin created justice. Please take a look at how amazing it is. Here is the link [ [ Erin's Art](http://elphiethesane.tumblr.com/post/145727053603/im-so-excited-to-finally-post-this-art-i-did-for) ]. 
> 
> [Thank you, Erin, for such a beautiful piece. I enjoyed writing this, and I loved how much room you gave me in playing in this world of yours. I also thank you so much for all your patience as I wrote very slowly and did not reply as timely as I would have liked. I love fairy tales and fantasy type stories, so I’m really grateful that I got to work with you on this. I’m super happy. I had a really good time trying to write a modern fairy tale.
> 
> Also, thank you to xanehawk for looking over the fic for me.]
> 
> Please note that this fic is not complaint with Age of Ultron, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: Civil War, and so forth. I did a lot of hand waving with the timeline, but I hope that it still reads well and logically. I took liberties with Iron Man 1-3, and this fic is really an alternate universe story. I also couldn’t resist adding Jan at the very end. This does take some inspiration from the comics and, well, fairy tales.
> 
> So, enjoy and don’t forget to thank the wonderful Erin for the art that gave birth to this.

_And everything he touched was gold and lost to him…_

The smell of fire and smoke lingered in the air. Tony choked on it, but he pressed his fingers to the glass nestled within his chest. The coldness there, even through the fabric, jolted him enough to snuff out any thoughts of coughing. His fingertips nearly froze for that matter, and Tony almost blessed the fact that the fire in his chest burned and glowed with his mood. Right now, the fire was ablaze with fury. But it _was_ over, and he pulled his fingers away, willing the fire to calm down along with his breathing.

“Oh god,” Pepper Potts said, dazed as she looked down at her own hands and the wreckage around them.

“You’re alright.” Tony drank the sight of her in, nearing closer as the fire in his chest sparked in relief.

“I—I am.” Pepper gestured to Tony’s chest. Her eyes were sharp, and Tony smiled wryly to himself. The blue fire couldn’t be hidden, especially not at this moment. The only thing more obvious would be to wear a shirt with a cut out hole.

“Is that—are you okay?” Pepper lifted her hand up as if to touch. She wrung her hands together instead. “Is it supposed to do that?”

“Peachy. Just another day, you know. And it does that sometimes. Side effect of being so tiny.” Tony kept his words light, but nothing could encompass the fear that went through him. Aldrich Killian took Pepper and imbued her with Extremis. Tony was _this_ close to losing her, but there she stood. Still alive. Pepper’s face was dusty with soot, but she was beauty incarnate, standing there with her red hair in the wind and the aftermath of destruction behind her. She was everything Tony did not deserve but was so lucky to have.

“Tony,” and she exhaled his name, voice steady in contrast to the minute tremors that ran through her body. “I just—“

“I’ll fix it.” The words tumbled out before Tony could think, fire burning in his chest. He had to put a hand over it to cover the sudden flare of brightness. His throat was tight, and if Pepper noticed the way his chest glowed and changed she didn’t say a word.

“I know.” She reached for him this time, hands sure instead of quaking, and that settled the fire inside down to a soft gentle flame. Pepper touched his cheek. “I’ll brain you with my Jimmy Choos if you didn’t.”

“Past board meeting threats already?”

“This? This is worth way more than attendance points.” Her eyes crinkled in the corners. “You have so much making up to do.

Tony pressed his cheek into her hand, beard most likely pricking her tender palm.

“You’re too good for me,” he confessed quietly. “I love you.”

“Hm,” she hummed and kissed him then on that wrecked ground, a lifeline. When he pulled her close, the fire didn’t burn. It welcomed her with a sweet mellow heat. “I love you too.”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

“I thought we were past this,” because things didn’t last. Not for a man without a heart, and everyone knew that Tony Stark couldn’t keep anything good. Tony didn’t dare look up. He could fix Extremis, but not this.

“We are,” he said, words soft and low.

“I should have known.” Pepper’s eyes were bright with emotions. No, Tony couldn’t fix this. Their relationship should have been stronger, and it might have if Tony—

He shrugged. “I told you already. No.”

“Tony.”

“I said, no.” He tossed the StarkPad Pepper handed him to the side. The sturdy thing didn’t break, screen still showing the extensive research Pepper had done regarding heart surgery. Tony wished it did break. Something to interrupt the tension, this conversation he had been delaying for weeks. He should have known better to make it last, but she was there and his if only for a moment.

“You’re not even going to consider it?” Pepper’s corporate gaze was fierce, stance strong and relentless. Her feet were exactly shoulder width apart with shoulders back.

“I’m not.” Because Tony was a liar. Everyone thought he built a miniature arc reactor and placed it within his chest. He did built the damn thing, but it wasn’t in his chest. Fate must have laughed when Tony Stark was born without a heart. No, Tony had to get a fucking blue fire instead. No amount of heart surgery could fix what wasn’t there.

“Please, Tony.” Pepper’s hands rested on her hips. Her eyes were still teary, but she didn’t cry. Her chin was tilted upward in the same way she took on the board that challenged her right to CEO at every step. “You need it.”

“I’m not going to have the surgery.” There really was nothing to remove, and he definitely didn’t need anyone finding out just how heartless he was, living up to the Merchant of Death.

“Is this about your goddamn ego, Tony?” Pepper made a low noise in her throat, eyes closing. Her voice cracked as she went on. “The shrapnel’s going to kill you. You realize that, don’t you?”

In another world, Tony could have given her the imaginary shrapnel. Maybe as some kind of morbid jewelry, but this wasn’t that world. Instead, he tapped his chest and the retort came smooth and easy.

Entirely wrong.

“Got to die sometimes, Pep.”

“Fine. Be that way!” Her lips pressed tight as if to keep her frustrations in. “I don’t know why I bother. I thought we could do this together.”

He could tell her the truth. She looked so damn sad.

He didn’t.

“I don’t want any doctors near it. I’m…I’m not ready for that.” The half lie caught deep on Tony’s tongue. So much so that he had to turn and fiddle with a hologram that was purely for show as Pepper processed that.

“You…oh, Tony.” Pepper stepped closer, slowly as if Tony would spook. Her hand on his was steady, cool and calm. She pushed his hologram away with a touch of her finger. It forced Tony to look at her, into her pretty eyes and see the steel there. “What if I was there with you? I wouldn’t leave you alone. You know that, right?”

Tony knew she wouldn’t. She would stay by his dumbass side as grounded and unshakable as she had done for so many years already. It was a miracle. Still, he couldn’t agree. He sighed loudly and looked at her small hand on his. He nearly lost her. Everything good was burned by his touch. The fire in his chest went cold, simmering down to the lowest flickers of flame.

“I was…I was going to—Project Clean Slate!” Tony blurted out, knowing it made no sense to her. Not without explanation.

“What?”

“Project Clean Slate.” Tony took a deep breath. He could do this and looked her in the eye. “It’s a program I wrote. If activated, it would have destroyed all the suits. And I do mean _all_ of them.”

The implications were clear, and Pepper pulled her hand away, eyes wide. “Tony—“

“But I didn’t.” The words were rough and bleak. “So, there’s nothing.” Tony’s free hand opened and closed in the air. He gestured randomly as if he could pull Pepper back in to his orbit. “I know—we’re supposed to be in this together, but I can’t. I’m—“

Tony’s anxiety shouldn’t be a thing Pepper had to deal with. Or the nightmares. To wake up with his armor hanging over her. To know that Tony didn’t feel safe even with her at his side although he wanted. He really wanted. She was rock and harbor. Tony folded Pepper’s hand in both of his, taking it carefully, smoothed a thumb over those delicate knuckles.

“Look. I swear I was—I thought about it a lot.”

There was more to it than Iron Man, more than all the love he had for her. Pepper wasn’t dumb, couldn’t have made it to CEO without some brain. He braced himself for her tirade, of the dangers Tony lived just by being a superhero. He couldn’t give it up.

“Are—are you breaking up with me?”

The fire in Tony’s chest stuttered to a halt before roaring back up in a torrent panic.

“What? No—no. Why did you say that?” He didn’t want to break up. It was the last thing on his mind. “I just…”

He floundered, not expecting that of all things to come out of Pepper’s mouth.

Pepper closed her eyes, lashes shiny with unshed tears, and resigned. “I think you are, Tony. You’re right. We _should_ be doing this together, and we haven’t been for a long time. Not since after Monaco.”

Before the disastrous birthday party and wormhole went unspoken.

“I love you.” It was the only thing Tony could think to say. To come out desperate and hoped it would make her stay. “I love you, Pep. I really do.”

“I love you too, but it doesn’t mean anything like this, does it?”

She slid her hand away from his a second time, and he didn’t stop her as she picked up the StarkPad from where it landed.

“We’re adults, Tony. Or you are half of one if not twelve percent.” Pepper’s lips quirked as if this tiny joke would make it better and keep them from quivering. “This is just another thing. I mean…”

Tony hated how her voice sounded. “Please, Pepper. I can do better.”

“It’s not about doing better.”

There was nothing Tony could say to that. He…that they even lasted this long, got more than he deserved in her…

“Is that all, Mr. Stark?” Pepper went on, professional and detached. She pulled herself together as if their status had never changed.

It took a moment before he could respond. “Yes—no. Take, take some time off, Miss Potts. “

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I will,” and she walked out without hesitating.

When the door closed, Tony stumbled through his drawer. It was hard to breathe as the fire burned high within and robbed him of air. He popped a Xanax in his mouth. As his breathing calmed down, the fire in his chest went soft. He fled to New York several weeks later.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

_And then he built a high wall around his garden to keep all others out…_

Of all the escapes Tony could have picked, he chose New York over the Bahamas or Cabo. It only occurred to him that he didn’t have to return here of all places just as the plane reached the New York skyline. Returning to Manhattan wasn’t like returning to Malibu. The later in California sunshine and waves filled Tony with ease. It was the security of a home all his own. The former didn’t. No surprises why. The Stark Mansion on Fifth Avenue was a relic of time. When Howard Stark purchased the mansion, he change very little of the original. Therefore, the building stood with all its opulence and grandeur of a bygone era preserved.

God. It was an ugly shit place that made Tony’s modernist leanings weep. Nothing like his beautiful home in Malibu. Still, Tony chose the mansion over Paris or Prague. God knows why, and he stepped out onto the pavement feeling ridiculously cowed as he looked up at the place. A sudden ring startled him out of his reflection, and Tony flicked his cell open.

“Honey pie, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tony gestured for the driver to drop his luggage on the sidewalk and waved him off.

“Are you mad?” Rhodey demanded to know as Tony picked up his belongings and shouldered his way through the looming gates.

“I’m always mad,” Tony replied. He shut the gates with a hook of his ankle, praying the paparazzi wasn’t hiding in the bushes. “That’s the power of science.”

“I hear you broke up with Pepper!”

“Been watching the naughty channels, haven’t you?”

“Tony.” Rhodey’s voice was flat, and Tony set his suitcase in front of the mansion’s front doors to rub at his chest. The fire in him didn’t ease at all, crackling loud enough that anyone within a feet could hear.

“Look. Can we wait for you to ream me out later? I just got to New York, and I haven’t even gotten inside the house yet.”

Rhodey went silent, long enough that Tony would have thought the call dropped if he didn’t have such superior statellites.

“Tones…you’re home home?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” Tony flicked his gaze upward to the windows above and then to the door which was as pristine as it ever was. Jarvis was long gone now along with Ana, but there were a few caretakers sent over to tidy up the place a little.

“This is worse than I thought,” Rhodey muttered. “You worry me. Do you need me to come back?”

“You just don’t want any gray hairs.”

“Too late for that,” Rhodey groused. “I just. Look. When you’re ready to talk, you know how to find me. I won’t even tell you off for hacking into our lines, but I really don’t think you should be there alone. Can’t you stay in a hotel or something for the night?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine, mom. It’s just for a little while. It’s not going to kill me. I don’t think Howard’s ghost will be haunting this place. In which case I’ll need to hire an exorcist.”

“Right.” Rhodey cleared his throat. “I just…”

“Thanks,” Tony said, injecting as much as he could into the word. The fire in his chest fizzled, warmed by Rhodey’s concern. James Rhodes was the one of the few constants he could count on in his life. To believe in the best of Tony. “I’ll send you a care package.”

Rhodey laughed. “Later, and no funny stuff.”

“Uh huh. Bye-bye, snookums.” Tony was going to send him something stupid and outlandish. Something that would make the mail checkers blush, and Rhodey all embarrassed. The call clicked off, and he was left alone before the mansion. He wished he had opened the door while Rhodey was still on the line, but it was too late for that.

He cracked the door open, and the hallway was long and dim. Tony astutely ignored everything and went straight to his old room. Exploring could wait till later. Although he probably shouldn’t have, he downed a Restoril and fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

The lack of dreams didn’t keep Tony asleep though. He woke several hours later, nearly falling out of his bed as his arm reached for a body that wasn’t there. The scent of citrus and sea salt lingered in his nose despite the fact Pepper had never been to the Stark Mansion, much less shared this room. Tony huffed, rubbing his nose of the phantom scent. That wasn’t for him anymore. Even with the sleeping pill, he couldn’t escape her. He was cursed to be an insomniac, more than he had ever been at any rate. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, still tangled in the sheets, and promptly fell this time.

It took a moment for Tony to regain his bearings, to know he was sprawled on the ground of a room that hadn’t been touched in over twenty years. His eyes caught on the Captain America poster that faced the bed. His drawer top was an ode to Captain America, with red, white, and blue streamers. It was far more patriotic than Tony felt at this point of life.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Tony grumbled to it. His childhood room was intact, but his dignity? Not so much. He put a hand under his chin, still staring at the poster.

“What would you do, Cap?” Tony asked the poster. Because, let’s face it, when you’re down, talking to a poster of Captain America in his patriotic rousing pose was sure-fire way to go. “At this—whatever early hour it is?”

He really needed to install JARVIS here. The poster didn’t answer.

“Midnight exploration it is.”

The mansion was creepier than Tony remembered at night, even with the lights turned on. Dusty even, though the staff probably only stocked his fridge and changed the sheets in his room. Tony didn’t exactly give explicit instructions except to make it livable for a few days.

He swore the hall wasn’t that scary when he used to venture into Jarvis’s room after a nightmare. Tony never came back after moving to Malibu, going from MIT straight to the beaches. He took Stark Industries with him, and Tony grimanced. The technology was all dated some thirty years ago.

The only place that wasn’t heart stopping terrifying was the library. The row of books were familiar sight, and he could hear his mom reading to him. The scent of her, verbena and expensive tea, lingered in the stale air. It crowded out the memories of Howard’s meetings with his associates in an after dinner smoke and drink. It definitely pushed out Howard handing him a drink and to grow some hair. Tony fingered the books from _The Little Prince_ to _As You Like It_ , and a whole score of outdated science books. There were more than a number on astronomy and rockets.

“So,” Tony said softly to himself. “Home.”

“ _I’m sorry? What did you say, Ed?_ ”

Tony jerked and crashed into a shelf, knocking it down with several others. The books scattered across the carpet, pages bent and spines crooked. The shelves fared no better with two of them having their wood splintered neat into several pieces. So much for quality goods.

“Who’s there?” Tony looked around for a burglar, but he saw nothing. He didn’t even have his gauntlet. The shelves rattled as if someone was moving towards him.

“ _Are you all right?_ ”

There was still no one in sight although the rattling noises had stopped.

“Shit,” Tony swore as he picked up an Oxford dictionary. It was hefty enough to throw. “I told Rhodey there wasn’t a ghost.”

He was going to be pissed if it was Howard. He had enough of him.

The shelves rattled again. “ _Mister?_ ”

“Okay,” Tony said loudly, brandishing the dictionary. “I’m a scientist, not the fucking ghost buster. I'm going to slam you with this book if you don’t come out. Count of three. One. Two. Three!”

No one or anything appeared. It was a long ten minutes, but there was nothing. The only sounds were the wind gushing outside, and the crackle of flames in Tony’s chest. He dropped the book, rubbing his eyes.

“Hallucinations. Just what I need now.”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Tony spluttered, choking on his coffee as it went down the wrong pipe. The infamous Black Widow sat at his breakfast table without a care in the world with her own mug of steaming coffee.

“Shit,” he gasped, mug clattering and coffee sloshing over as he dropped it on the counter. The blue in his chest pulsed erratically as he moved his right hand away from its target. “What the fuck, Nat?”

“Good morning to you too,” Natasha replied, unfazed by Tony’s reaction to her presence. “Or should I say good afternoon?”

“I slept late.” Tony flexed his hand and reset his gauntlet back into a watch. He still had it. He was safe. Or as much as he could be with an assassin in kitchen. “What made Fury send a super spy over? No missions taking up your time? Hello Mother Russia and—”

“Just checking in.” Natasha eyed his unkempt clothes and hair.

“I’m a big boy.” Tony rolled his eyes, trying not to flinch. He refused to be embarrassed by his appearance. Natasha had seen him in worse conditions, and this was hardly a blip on the radar. Tony scratched his chin where the hair was growing in. Though, his goatee was losing its edge.

“You haven’t left the mansion in two weeks.”

“I was tinkering. You know—upgrades to those shiny bracelets you happen to use.” It was mostly true. If he spent half that time drunk and trying not to crawl out of his own skin, well, no one need to know that. He was productive at least. “Besides, I’m benched. Not a team player. Just because I didn’t call for help when I was in Washington. I got Rhodey though.”

“Fury’s concerned,” Natasha drawled, practiced at ignoring a good portion of the thing that came out of Tony’s mouth. Pepper trained her well.

Tony paused, putting his thought about cleaning up the shattered ceramic and spilled nirvana on hold. “Really now. I wouldn’t have guessed with all the tabs he’s been keeping on me. Tell him to stop sticking his eye where it doesn’t belong. I’ll buy him a full eye mask too.”

“Tony.” It came out more fondly than she probably intended. “He doesn’t do sappy.”

“Good. That’s terrifying.” Tony opened his fridge. It was empty aside from a lone jar of tomato sauce.

“He doesn’t want a repeat of your birthday debacle.”

Tony slammed the fridge door shut, pointing his finger at her. “I was dying.”

She knew that. She was there. Natasha levelled a look on him that was way too scary. “You know, Stark—“

“I’m not in any hurry to die again if you must know. No need to worry your head.” Tony wasn’t even sure if he could die. At least no one could stab him his non-existent heart.

“Alright.” She went back to sipping her coffee, firm and unyielding in her posture.

Tony stared. “Alright? Seriously, no, Tony you have to listen to Fury or some kind of spiel?”

“Like you’ll listen to him,” Natasha retorted. “If you want me to do something, I could.”

“No.” Tony wrinkled his nose. Getting stabbed in the neck once was one time too many. He didn’t need her special brand of help. “I’m being serious. Just because you people can’t keep up with me doesn’t mean I’m not.”

“I know.” Natasha stood up. Her eyes were expressionless as she looked him over. “I have blood on my hands too. It isn’t easy.”

Tony didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent as Natasha patted him on the cheek. He barely managed to contain the flush that peeked up from that action or the way the fire fluttered inside at the affectionate attention. He looked away.

“Yeah, well, I—“

“Let me know when we’re moving in. I expect you to have a working suit by then.”

Tony swore. “How did you—“

But she was already gone. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

The next morning Tony tore into the hardwood floors in the ballroom. They were satisfying to rip out, the panels splintering as he dug in and pried each section loose. It was going to make a great training room with the high ceiling and ample space once he reinforced the ground. Hell, he might even add some virtual reality stimulation alongside the robots.

“Hey, hey!” Tony glowered at DUM-E who had a fire extinguisher. One which Tony certainly didn’t give him. “Does it look like there’s a fire here?”

DUM-E beeped and rolled away, but Tony kept an eye on him. Although he missed his bots and sent for them immediately, he did not miss that.

“Yeah, yeah. Beep all you want, but if I find you aiming that anywhere near my chest—“

“I believe he wants you to take a break,” JARVIS suggested. His voice was tinny from the laptop he had set up in a corner safely away from the demolition process. Tony really needed to install the wiring and hardware to let JARVIS operate here.

“Yeah, by braining me.” Tony snorted. “Or extinguishing my heart. I feel the love, DUM-E. I really do.”

“Well, seeing as you haven’t delivered his favorite blender…”

“JARVIS.” Tony dropped his hammer. There was still several large sections to go, not counting the unruly nail he struggled to yank out. It was a stubborn piece of iron.

“I am merely saying that the pizza should be arriving shortly.”

Tony’s traitorous stomach growled. “Not a word.”

JARVIS bleated a sound that was way too adorable for his demeanor, one that fitted DUM-E or U. Tony blinked at how disconcerting that was.

“Never do that again,” Tony said, snatching up the laptop. “And just because I’m leaving doesn't mean you two bots have free reign. If I find you messed up my nicely organized piles, you’ll be going in the trash. Don’t even deserve the community college.”

DUM-E beeped as U whined in protest. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but Tony knew it was really U he had to look out for. It was always the quiet ones.

“And get the fire extinguisher out of here.”

He stretched, feeling his every vertebrae cracked. He really had been bent over too long, but he was making good process for one person. The exhaustion at the end of the day kept him from dreaming half the time.

The doorbell rang, sounding through the entire mansion.

“That would be the pizza.”

“Thanks.” Tony smiled at the laptop. Even if he made them all with his hands, the bots and JARVIS were his own kind.

“You are most welcome, Sir.”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Tony intended to return to the ballroom to continue working, but the cheesy goodness left him in a food coma. That meant at least an hour or two of being useless. It was then he decided to return to the library. He’d been considering turning it into a main control room for team briefing or something. He had put it off in case the hallucinations returned. There was no need to subject himself to that type of crazy just yet. Carefully, Tony opened the library door. Sunlight filtered in through the tall French windows. The shelves and books that he bumped into that night were still scattered across the carpet. It was a disaster but looked more welcoming in the daylight.

His shoulders sank as he nudged his way into the room fully. That was pathetic, being scared of his own shadow. He studied the room more thoroughly, taking his time to map out possible spacing. He could probably fit a server there. Without thinking, Tony dropped to his knees, counting and marking the space with his fingers and arms. The back of the library might be the best place. He coughed on a layer of dust and realized there was something behind the layer of grime on the wall. Blue clouds and yellow stars decorated the gaps of wall the bookshelves didn’t cover.

“Well, would you look at that?” Tony wiped the dirt and a cobweb away to examine it better. He had gotten ridiculously excited about space and dreamt of going to the moon. He was lucky that Jarvis didn’t kill him but instead showed Tony the proper way to apply paint.

_“Whadya say?”_

Tony’s forehead crinkled in confusion. He looked up. No. Just full sunlight and his own brain being dumb. He shook his head and examined his handiwork. He would hate to cover it up, but Tony didn’t think it would fit the scheme he was going for if he converted the library to what he intended. He was too old for childish dreams anyway.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

_And the beast showed her to the most amazing sight…_

“Fuck you!”

Tony woke screaming. He scrambled for the light and fixed his eyes on the Captain America poster on the wall. He focused on the star on the bright red and blue as he tried to get his breathing regulated. His chest felt way too cold, and the insulated metal didn’t stop the chill from bleeding into his limbs. Nightmares always made it worse, and he hadn’t felt the warmth in weeks. Tony frowned at the blue flames dancing behind the glass, visible through the thinness of his tank. He rubbed it as if that would help. It didn’t.

Another goddamn nightmare, and he didn’t even have a stuffed animal to hug. Tony clenched his blankets instead, pooling it. At least, he managed to scream himself awake. Rhodey suggested he tried speaking in his dreams, and that worked enough to get him out. It cut the weight of Ob on him more than anything else. Not to mention, there was something deeply satisfying with yelling at Obie, real or not.

“I guess I’m not sleeping anymore tonight.” Tony saluted Cap on his way out of the room. His feet took him to the library. This time, he settled into a couch to thumb through _A Journey to the Center of the Earth_. It wasn’t a space book, but it was the first Tony found in the fallen books that seemed worth reading. Science and fantasy. All the impossible things that was possible. Things Tony used to dream of.

He read out loud. The silence was suffocating, and JARVIS was still on the laptop in his room. There was also no way he was bringing the bots up here. Tony was less lonely reading to a pretend audience anyway. As he finished chapter three, Tony yawned and closed the book.

“ _Wow. Are you gonna finish that, sir?_ ”

The book fell out of Tony’s lap as he stood up, gauntlet already out and ready at hand. Tony searched the room, but he saw no one. Fuck. He really was hallucinating. Or there was a ghost.

“Mister?” That soft voice called out. The accent was familiar, but Tony couldn’t place it. Was that Bronx? Something with a B—?

Warily, he asked, “are you…talking to…me?”

“Oh, good. I was ‘fraid I’d scared you away.”

“I’m not—great.” Tony reset his gauntlet watch and slapped himself. “I’m losing my mind.”

He cast his eyes around the library, at the scattered mess and the shelves that still stood with their dusty books. He slapped himself again, willing his vision to be clear.

“I promise you’re not,” the voice chimed back.

“Really. Then, who the hell are you supposed to be?” Tony put his face into his hands, groaning. He might as well talk to himself. His cheek throbbed at his stupidity.

"Steve," the voice replied then thoughtfully added, "I'm not a ghost. Honest."

“Right. A figment of my imagination,” Tony snorted and thought of _Mickey and the Beanstalk_ as he sat back down on the couch.

“I’m not. I’m as real as you are.”

“Then, why can’t I see you, smartie pants?” Really. Tony was going to argue with himself now. Maybe he should have listened to Rhodey about seeing someone.

There was a thoughtful pause. “I don’t know, but I know I can hear you.”

“Then, maybe, _you’re_ the one losing your mind.”

“I know what my own voice sounds like,” Steve replied crossly. “It’s certainly _not_ yours.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know there are many people out there who think I have a sexy voice. One of the sexiest in the world.” He didn’t beat Alan Rickman, but Tony was in the top ten.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Aw, come on, buttercup.” Tony dropped his pitch, lower and softer. “Don’t you think _this_ is a voice worth listening to?”

“No.”

Tony huffed. “I’m sure you know what charms the ladies. So, if I’m not crazy, and you’re not crazy, what’s going on here? Last I knew, my library did not feature a bodiless voice named Steve.”

There wasn’t an immediate answer, and Tony just about chalked it up to him being cracked up like a Green Day song when Steve replied suddenly.

“I’m in a library.”

“What?”

“I’m in a library,” Steve repeated. “In a mansion on Fifth Avenue. I was contracted to do repair work here.”

“I’m on Fifth Avenue too,” Tony replied slowly. He still wasn’t ruling out the ghost possibility yet.

“Huh, ain’t that something.”

“Yeah, if you consider that we shouldn’t be able to talk like this. I should know. I science.”

“Right,” Steve said dubiously.

“I’m the best at it you know.” He didn’t earn all those doctorates for nothing. Hell, he even had a degree in business which was more than Richard Reed could say he had.

“You sure say you’re the best at something.” Steve hummed. “Well, we established you’re not me and I’m not you. So, you’re not just hearing things.”

“I don’t think you telling me counts.” Tony was sure this wasn’t supposed to happen, but anything could now that there were aliens and superheroes. Thank you, Thor.

“Why not? It’s happening right now, isn’t it? Like I told you. I know my own voice. Or don’t you know your own voice?”

“Less and less.” The question caught Tony off guard, and he turned briefly to the events that occurred over the last year. He wasn’t sure if he could make a suit again. To get more blood on his hands.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked. “You can tell me. Who would I tell it to? I’m just sitting here working.”

Tony sighed. “Nothing really to tell, kid.”

“I’m not a kid, and if there’s nuthin’ to tell then you should be able to say it.”

“Wouldn’t want to scare you,” Tony murmured.

“But—“

“I’m a boogey-man without a heart.” Tony picked up the dropped book and turned to chapter four. “How about I just read a couple more chapters to you and leave it at that?”

“I—“

Tony read.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

From what Tony could put together, they occupied different points of time in the mansion. Steve was in the 1939, veering into the 1940. Tony was the future or Steve’s future at the minimum. It was confusing until they figured it out. The fact threw his theory right out the window though. Tony thought it might have been a dimensional portal, and then he thought it have been a nexus point conflicting with an object in the library. Tony was also two point three percent convinced it was still all in his head despite repeated encounters and all of JARVIS’s energy readings.

“Well, I’m not a ghost buster after all,” Tony declared over the soft hammering that came from Steve’s side as he surveyed the latest set of data.

“I told you, I’m not a ghost.” There was a particular vicious whack on a nail with that reply.

“We haven’t ruled that out yet. Who knows?” Tony pointed at the stars and cloud painted wall from his childhood. Ironically, it was the most optimal spot for them to talk loudly and clearly enough for each other. Though, Steve couldn’t always be at his most optimal spot due to his work. Tony still didn’t understand the wall or how they were speaking.

“I think we already ruled that out.”

“I don’t know,” Tony insisted. “Maybe you died and didn’t realize you were a ghost.”

“Tony, that’s stupid.” Steve paused in his hammering. “I think I would know if I’m dead.”

“Several dozen movies say otherwise.” Tony looked at the readings again, but they made no sense. It only registered on the monitor at this wall and part of the library. There wasn’t even any sort of discernible pattern. Steve started to reply, but he ended up coughing instead.

“Are you sick again? I hear you hacking over there.”

“No.” Steve coughed again. “It’s the dust.”

“I thought you finally cleared out all the dust?” Tony gave the readings one last look before saving and shutting the equipment down. Tony just might have to invent a new instrument to get better readings. Take that, Spengler.

“Speak of it, and it happens. _And_ there’s still dust. It’s not going to go away until everything’s finished.”

Tony eyed his library, wondering how much of the work was done by Steve then. Maybe he’ll put in a better air filtration and ventilation unit here. It’ll protect the books better.

“You need a Roomba,” he decided. He’ll order several and modify them.

“A what?”

“A Roomba. A tiny circular robot that sucks up all the dust. It’s very cute. Adorable. You’ll love it.”

“Sure,” Steve agreed sarcastically. “If I make it to your time, it’ll be the very first thing on my list.”

“You’re going to be a crochety old man, aren’t you?” Tony flicked through the stack of books near the wall. Steve’s voice was reassuring through the wood, and they had steadily made their way through a good number of books.

“I think that’s you,” Steve shot back.

“I regret telling you my age.” Tony waved his chosen book at Steve even though he couldn’t see it. “If that’s how it is, you are a very naughty boy. No bedtime stories for you.”

Steve laughed, and it sent Tony’s blue fire alight in a warm blaze. Tony pressed a hand to his chest and smiled.

“That’s what ya hav’ta say? Tony?”

“Does it look like I'm joking?”

“Very well then. My turn,” and Tony pictured Steve mock saluting him with a hammer. “Your entertainment tonight features the grand old hammer and a very special treat—“

“Coughing,” Tony supplied. That sent Steve into another fit of chuckles.

“Shuddup.”

“I don’t know. Coughing takes a very special talent. Do you get sick very often, Steve? Didn’t just recover from a cold last week?”

“I have a whole list of medical problems,” Steve sighed. He went back to hammering, tone a little subdued. “I used to get sick more often. I was lucky though. My ma was a nurse.”

“Oh.”

“She was the best. She died early, and…she really was the best.”

“I’m…sorry to hear that. My mom died young too. I was seventeen.” Tony stared at one of the clouds that was fainted and chipped on the wall. He could almost see her there, reading to him. “I’m sure your mom is proud of you.”

“I hope so.” There was a soft scrape, as if Steve played with a metal of some sort. “I still have her medallion. Probably wouldn’t survive without it.”

“Right…so, uh. Do you need live in a bubble?” Tony changed the subject, feeling awkward.

“Is it better than the iron lung?” Steve asked seriously.

“Uh…not really. By the way, if you smoke, you shouldn’t. It’s bad for your lungs. Don’t listen to the ads—I don’t care what they say.”

“Modern medicine must be amazing,” Steve wondered wistfully. “I’m a little jealous.”

“You’ll get there,” Tony promised.

“True enough.” Steve resumed his hammering having paused in their conversation. “Not that I’m letting my health keep me from doing things or even enlisting.”

“Enlisting? You’re enlisting? You of all people?” Tony heard Steve sniffling enough to know the other guy wasn’t the perfect picture of health. Probably got the wind knocking him down on the streets. Considering what the man just admitted as well…

“Yup. I’ve got to do my part. Gonna go down tomorrow and sign up. At least put my name down. Bucky, my best friend, tells me I’m stupid about it.”

“I forgot that it’s wartime for you,” Tony said quietly. World War II. 1941 for America. He looked down at the book in his lap: _War of the Worlds_. Probably not the best choice for tonight.

“Not yet. The U.S. haven’t entered, but it’s probably a matter of time.”

“Still…”

“Well, that’s how it is.” Steve cleared his throat. “Now, are ya gonna read to me or not?”

“There once was an impatient boy named Steve—“

“Tony!”

“Sheesh. Hold your horses.”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

_And she had three days to guess his name…_

Steve was a distraction, but he still didn’t take away the nightmares. Not that it was Steve’s duty. Just wishful thinking on Tony’s part. Tony didn’t really expect them to ever go away, to forever wake up body drenched in sweat and muscles clenched tight. At least, he didn’t have to subject Pepper to htem anymore. Even with his remaining working suits standing guard, Tony couldn’t shake the uneasiness of feeling unprotected. His watch was always on him, but the mansion held too many memories for him.

Tony polished the banister, falling back on how Jarvis instructed him when he was a child with far too much energy. The slow steady repetitiveness was soothing, and it eased him to slow to a rhythm that didn’t require him to think.

“There’s a call from Ms. Potts,” JARVIS said quietly. He had finally installed him into the main sections of the mansion. He wasn’t done yet, but at least JARVIS could wake him from nightmares and take calls for him. “Do you accept?”

Tony’s chest ached, fire fizzing in anxiety, but he nodded. “Yeah, might as well.”

“Hello?” His mouth felt so dry. Pepper…

“Hello Mr. Stark.”

That made Tony’s chest hurt a little more. “What can I do for you?”

“I received some papers today about the Stark Mansion.”

“Oh, yeah. Make it happen, will you?”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Pepper asked. “This isn’t something you can walk away from. Once it’s finalized—“

“I _said_ to make it happen.” There was a stunned silence. Tony cleared his throat, having shouted. “I—“

“Tony.”

“Please Pepper. I know what I’m doing. I’m certain that I want this to be the Avengers headquarters.” She didn’t have the right to question him about this. He—he gave her up for this.

“Very well, Mr. Stark.”

Tony couldn’t read the emotions in her voice though he knew it was there. Their break up was still too new. He restrained himself from asking her to come back.

“I’ll try to give you a head’s up if it looks like it’ll affect our stocks,” Tony offered.

“If you can that would be great.” He imagined Pepper with a sad smile. Fuck it.

“I—I miss you.” Then he bit his tongue from saying more.

“I miss you too,” Pepper replied. This time Tony could hear the crack in her voice, that it was affecting her just as badly as it affected him. “It’s not the same without you.”

“Of course. Nothing’s the same without me,” Tony joked. Pepper laughed softly. This was okay. This would be okay.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Some,” Tony said, resuming his polishing of the banister. He didn’t smell the phantom citrus and sea salt any longer, but the bed was just that. A bed. Empty and cold.

“I hope you get more rest. You never sleep enough.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugged even though she couldn’t see him.

“I have some more papers for you to sign. I’m sending them your way.”

Which meant Pepper already sent it, and Tony had better check his mail for it.

“More paperwork?”

“Yes, Tony. More paperwork. Now, I have to go but…” Pepper inhaled. “I love you, Tony. I hope you know that.”

Tony blinked, trying to keep the wetness out of his eyes and the ache out of his chest as the fire there popped in warning. “I love you too, Pep.”

The call clicked off, and Tony stared at the polish rag and banister without seeing.

“Cue up some AC/DC will you, JARVIS?”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

The mansion’s workshop didn’t have everything that Tony used. It was going to take some deliveries to get everything set up the way he preferred. He looked at the schematics on the StarkPad and then to the metal on the counter.

The arms were done. The gauntlets, the forearms up to the shoulders were all done. They were the first to be finished, easy because Tony still had his watch. The only thing they lacked were the paint, the infamous red and gold that marked his suit.

The hard part was everything else. The chest plate sat before him, empty and waiting. He raised his tiny screwdriver to the plate. There were wires and screws and—

“Fuck!”

His hand shook, fingers unsteady, scrapping into the wrong slot on the plate. He tried again, scrabbling to position the tool.

“Fuck!”

Tony threw his screwdriver, embedding it into the wall. He looked at the chest plate and growled. His hands still shook and tremble.

“Damnit!” He shoved the chest plate, sending it flying off the counter and into a heap on the ground.

“Sir?” JARVIS asked, concerned.

“It’s fine.” Tony sucked in a breath. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t pick up the plate though. He resisted the urge to kick it. “I just—I’m going to sleep, JARVIS. Lock it down.”

JARVIS wisely didn’t comment, and Tony trundled up the stairs in silence. He looked at the Captain America poster on his wall. He really need to remodel his room, but…

“Watch me while I sleep.”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Tony woke with a jerk, shaking. He breathed hard, hand pressed to his chest to reassure himself that the blue fire was still there. The fire crackled weakly, and Tony turned his head to the Captain America poster.

“You’re useless,” he told it. “Even a dreamcatcher would work better than you.”

Since sleep was moot at this point, Tony’s feet found himself treading the familiar path to the library. The place was quiet as Tony slipped inside. His fingers still shook, and the door slammed shut with a thunder crack instead of soft. Tony stumbled his way to the couch lit up in moonlight. His face was still sticky with sweat, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. His voice was mildly unsteady.

“Hey, Steve?” He swallowed dryly and tried again. “Steve?”

There was no answer. Tony sighed and felt the weight of his nightmare on him. The blue in his chest was a dull, dull blue instead of its usual shiny brightness. Tony’s heart no longer raced, but every single image was still there, crystal clear. Pepper lying still, and Rhodey walking away. Yinsen saying he wasted his life for Tony’s.

“I guess I can’t expect you to be there twenty four seven, huh?” He curled himself up into a ball on the couch. “I don’t know what to do, Steve. I know you’re there, but I don’t know what to do.”

His suit was still lying in the workshop in pieces. He didn’t want to touch it.

“Have you ever thought that you were wrong? Know that you were wrong? Because I am wrong in the most horrific way when I’m right all the other times.”

There was a light laugh. “You’re right all the other times?”

“Steve?” Tony asked, not daring to hope that the other man was actually there. He sat up immediately, pushing his hair off his forehead.

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve apologized. “I’m deaf in one ear so my bad ear must’ve missed your words. My good ear is facing the other side.”

“Oh. No, no problem.” Tony leaned back into the couch, head hitting the back with a soft thud. “I didn’t mean to bother you. You’re working.”

He didn’t know how time passed or worked with each conversation they had. It was getting close to December 1941 though.

“Monotonous work. I’m cleaning out the panels that line the windows.”

Tony eyed the mentioned panels. They were richly carved, and at the moment full of dust in each little nook and crevice.

“Yeah, that’s not happening with me. I did the banisters today—yesterday though.” He tucked his knees up under his arms. He could repeat his words, ask if—

“Steve, I—“

He cut himself off. There was no point.

“Yes, Tony?”

“It’s nothing. I just—three in the morning you know. Can’t think right at this hour.”

Tony listened to Steve work quietly, how there was just a slight wheeze on every other breath or so. He felt his eyes drooping, but then Steve spoke.

“Everyone can be wrong. No one can be right all the time.”

“I—“ Tony huffed, disgruntled. “I thought you were deaf. And, of course, I’m right. Usually. Genius here.”

“Partial deaf,” Steve corrected. “My good ear got sum of it. What’s with the question?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Tony had blood on his hands while Steve had never touched a single life.

“Try me,” came Steve’s quiet, but assertive response.

“I just—“ Tony struggled to put it to words. “It’s not about being wrong really. It’s more like…I’m a superhero. I save lives. Or at least I thought I did. My—I’m scared.”

He didn’t know how he could step into the suit again. How to make it right without harming Pepper and everyone else? Happy was still in the hospital, and Tony couldn’t even help him. He couldn’t control his weapons. He couldn’t control what other people knew, and Vanko did that. Then, there was Killian and his…

“Hm,” Steve merely hummed. “Why are you scared?”

“I—I don’t think I’m cut out to save lives.” Tony’s blue fire dimmed low. “I can still calculate the math, the way to do it, but I can’t do it. I’ve done too many things wrong. I mess up more than I make it right.”

He really almost lost Pepper. And Tony knew that a team of superheroes was just asking for even more trouble, bigger things than him. What the fuck did he know about protecting people?

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course, it matters,” Tony said, irritated. “I can’t even make a suit let alone step into it.” Then, lowly, he muttered. “I don’t even have a goddamn heart you know.”

Tony really shouldn’t care so much.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve repeated, firm and gentle. “I know it’s not black and white, but the thing is? You do what you can to save people in spite of everything else. Isn’t that what you want? Why else are you scared of being wrong? Because you think you can’t save everyone and maybe you can’t, but you _can_ do something. You have heart in what you’re doing, and that’s probably why you feel so much about it.”

“I don’t know, Steve.” Tony rubbed his eyes. “It’s just not that simple.”

“You know, I’ve been rejected three times now,” Steve said mildly.

“What?”

“For the army,” Steve clarified. “I told you I want to sign up. Well, the army doesn’t want me because of my health, but I have to do my part. My health, it’s bad, but I don’t like bullies. If I can stop one, even try, then it’s worth it.”

“You sound like Captain America.”

“Who?”

“Ignore that.” Captain America didn’t exist yet. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can and you will. I know we just met, but you’re a good man, Tony.”

“You’re a better man then me,” Tony replied lamely. He wasn’t. Tony wasn’t a good man. He was just some ex-weapon dealer who thought he could make it right.

“Maybe we both can be.”

“Tell me a story,” Tony said instead of replying to that. Steve sighed, but Tony heard him opened a book, flipping the pages open. Steve read, voice steady and even as he worked. Like that Tony fell asleep there on the couch in the library.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Tony looked down at the chest plate, jaw tight.

“I am Iron Man.”

He smoothed a hand over the plate, over the spot where the arc reactor sat.

“I am Iron Man,” he repeated to himself.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

_And he was born not with a heart but a blue fire instead…_

The Avengers Mansion was taking shape, soon to reach completion in a matter of weeks. The key cards, doubled as Avengers IDs, were already done as well, just waiting to be issued. There was one missing though, and Tony suspected Natasha had made off with hers early. There was a bag of specialty coffee beans on his finished suit. It tasted fantastic, and all in all Tony was in a good place. The fire in his chest swelled and brightened the entire library in a glow of baby blue through his tank, overwhelming. This would be the piece of resistance.

“Good heavens, what is that awful noise?”

“Amazing shit,” Tony instantly replied but gestured to JARVIS to lower the volume. “You’re going to cry when you reach this era in music.”

“I’m already crying,” Steve replied flatly. “I know I’m partial deaf, but that is not music.”

“You just wait a decade or three. This stuff is pure gold.”

Steve snorted as Tony stood back, checking the shelves space. The carpet had been redone, the upholstery replaced, and the piano fitted in its own corner. He had painstakingly retouched the blue clouds and yellow stars of his childhood. The panel of wall had two bookcases, mirrored on either side. They highlighted a comfortable loveseat right against the painted wall, where Steve’s voice could be clearly heard. He tried fitting a table, but it threw the balance off. What did work surprisingly was a little elevation, four tiny steps leading up to the wall. It was his own stairways to heavens.

“Uh-huh. I still don’t believe the noises I’m hearing.”

“Fine,” Tony said, sounding like a petulant child. “I’ll play something that might suit you more.”

Glenn Miller filtered through the library, the notes reaching every corner of the library easily through hidden speakers. Tony stroked his goatee, trying not to smile at Steve’s stunned silence. At least, he hoped Steve was stunned. He spent hours (Read JARVIS) tracking down the 1930s music scene although Miller came after.

“Well,” Steve said after a beat. “I suppose you’ve got some taste after all.”

“I’m truly insulted.” Tony surveyed the wall once more, pleased. Everything was lined up neatly, and no one could tell the library had ever been a mess in the first place.

“You offended my ears first.”

“Rude.” Tony dropped onto the loveseat. Steve sounded as if he was right next to him, and he wondered if Steve was pressed up against his own wall in his time or if he sat far away. There was a sudden spark in his chest, and he squashed it down as Steve changed the subject.

“What are you going to read me today?”

“Do you even deserve a story today? You’ve been very mean to me, Steve.”

“I’ve been working unlike you.” Steve scratched away at something.

“Ouch. That’s very hurtful, Steve.” Tony stretched out onto the loveseat, one arm beneath his head.

“You gonna tell it or not?”

“For you, I’ll tell you all the stories. Hm…how about a fairy tale?” Tony didn’t get up to grab his copy of Grimms’ fairy tale book. There was something else he had in mind. Something that made the fire in his chest spark again. He pushed it down again.

“Tony, if you’re going to read Jack & the Beanstalk again, I’ll—“

“There once was a man, a very smart man.”

“I don’t want a story about you.” Steve paused and added, “Or me.”

“There once was a man, a very smart man,” Tony repeated as if he wasn’t interrupted. “He made weapons—big and powerful weapons. He grew famous for them, and when war came he was called upon by his country to help. His fame grew along with his wealth. He worked on the most fantastic projects, on things nobody would believe if they knew. Magic masks and dragons, mermaids and enchanted goblets. All that and more.

“Then, one day the man met a witch who worked for the warring country. The witch begged for mercy, but he killed her anyway. Before the witch turned to ashes, she cursed the man. For his lack of heart, it would be evident to all who set eyes on him and his progeny. The man laughed, but when he went home and had a wife, he found it true in his newborn son.

“The child was born without a heart. A gaping blue fire took place of a heart in the child’s chest.”

Tony pressed a hand to the blue fire in his own chest, feeling the heat of it beneath his fingers. The fire crackled, and the flames danced underneath the glass and his shirt. The light flickered, the glow unsteady in the library, as Tony pretended he didn’t just tell his own story.

“And then?” Steve prompted when Tony didn’t continue.

“And so the child grew into a man without a heart, worse than his father. He made mistakes and harmed all that knew him. He turned a new leaf one day, but nothing would ever get him back his heart. So, he died heartless and lonely.”

Tony barely finished the ending when Steve exploded in outrage. “What kind of story is that?”

“A sad one.” Tony tapped the glass, felt the fire burn his fingertips cold. “You’ll understand one day if we meet.”

He pictured it. A meeting with Steve, and it was as every good as Tony thought it could be.

“Sure,” Steve said dubiously.

“I promise.”

“Now, read me a real story, you jerk.”

“Okay, Steve. I will,” and Tony smiled on the loveseat, yellow stars and clouds in his vision.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

_And she went to sleep for a hundred years…_

“Tony?”

“Yes, Steve?” Tony pushed his StarkPad away, head leaning against the back of the loveseat to hear Steve better.

“I—“ Steve started.

“What are you doing, Rogers?” a voice in the background asked.

“I—I got something I need to do first. I promise I’m goin’.”

“You better hurry and take a last look,” the voice replied.

“I will,” Steve replied. “Sorry—that was Ed. Uh…”

“It happens. I’m surprised no one thought you were crazy, talking to yourself.”

“That’s you, definitely you.”

Tony laughed, and Steve did too but he was slow. More hesitant to laugh. Tony frowned.

“Steve…are you, are you okay? You’re not sick again, are you?”

“I am—I just.” Steve made a noise in his throat. “My work’s done here. The library is finished. Not the rest of the house, and there’ll still be workers and. I mean, I’m done. I’m done here.”

And like that the light in Tony’s chest went near dark, fire burnt so low that it might never had been.

“What?”

Steve had never said anything, and Tony struggled to understand it. Because that wasn’t, it couldn’t—

“I—“ Steve cleared his throat. “I, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“Well, is there any way I could? Um…” Tony didn’t know what he could do, but there had to be a way for them to keep talking.

“No,” Steve said, cutting off Tony’s planning. “I mean, it’s not just that. I enlisted. That’s why I resigned. I’m shipping out next week, so I might not come back at all.”

“Wait, wait.” Tony pressed a hand to the wall, knees up on the seat, still trying to understand what was happening. He wished he could see Steve. It couldn’t be 1941 already? Or was it ’42? “I thought they wouldn’t take you because your health sucks.”

“Yes, well, I got lucky.” He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “There was a doctor, Dr. Erskine, and he thought I had promise. I can’t say more about it, but it’s a special program.”

“No. What? That’s ridiculous. That doctor is an idiot! You’re going to die, Steve.” Tony pressed his hands against the wall, as if he could reach through space and time to touch Steve. He was going to die before he even reached the field with that kind of health.

“Does it matter? At least, I’ll die doing my part.”

“Steve. Come on, aren’t you still sick?”

“I just want to say good-bye.”

“Steve, don’t you—“ Tony banged a fist against the wall.

“Thank you for everything, Tony.”

“Steve!” There was no answer, but Tony banged his fist on the wall again.  “Damnit! Steve! Steve!”

There wasn’t an answer. Tony stared at the clouds and stars.

“Fuck,” and he punched the wall, ruining it.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

 “Damn,” Rhodey whistled, seeing Tony. “It’s strange seeing you instead of Jarvis.”

“I’ll have you know I can make a proper cup of tea.” Tony tried to smile, but it ended up more like a wince. As much as he loved Rhodey, he didn’t want to talk or see anyone right now. He missed Steve so much it hurt. The fire in his chest was a constant cold, the flames banked low. Lower than when he broke up with Pepper. Tony didn’t realize Steve was that important to him till he was gone. Had he really spent the last few months with Steve as he fixed the mansion?

“You mean Jarvis makes a proper cup,” Rhodey corrected. “I’ve tasted your cooking.”

He swept Tony into a giant bear hug, and it chased the cold out of Tony’s chest a little. Tony leaned into him.

“I can too make a proper cup.” His voice was muffled against Rhodey’s shirt.

“I’ll believe it when I taste it. Now, are you going to let me in?”

“If you let go of me first, you clingy bastard.”

Rhodey didn’t comment on how it was Tony holding onto him tightly.

“By the way, I did not appreciate the care package you sent me. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have that go through—“

“Don't lie, you love it.”

“Did you really have to send me dirty magazines and pictures of yourself? The food and games were great, but really? The magazines? Like people don’t talk enough already about us.”

“I was worried you’ll forget me.” Tony led Rhodey into the mansion. “And everyone needs sperm bank material.”

Rhodey sighed, and Tony could pretend for a moment that everything was normal.

“Just give me the tour.”

“It’s not all that different actually. Mostly interior work.” Tony resolutely didn’t think about the library he destroyed. He couldn’t step in there and know there wouldn’t be any whisper of Steve’s asthmatic breathing or soft hammering from the wall.

“You don’t do anything by halves, Tones. I heard you put in a training room from Pepper.”

“Stimulation actually. For combat. That’s the old ballroom.”

“I want to see that first,” Rhodey declared as they reached the grand stairs.

“Sure, and once the stimulations are ready. You know you’re first to have at it.”

“I better be.” Rhodey paused at the top of the staircase. “You know you’re less happy than I expect.”

Tony flinched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When I talked to you two weeks ago…you were, I don’t know. More like yourself. I thought you got over Pepper, but here you are looking like I kicked your dog.”

“I wouldn’t own a dog,” Tony scoffed. He grabbed Rhodey’s suitcase, storming up the stairs and into the room Rhodey would be staying in.

“Tony.”

“Poohbear, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Rhodey looked at him then up at the ceiling as if to ask god for assistance. “Do we need to break out the booze?”

“There is a case of your favorite hops in the kitchen,” JARVIS said smoothly.

“Great,” Rhodey said. He held his hand out to Tony. “Get smashed?”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

“It’s, it’s crazy,” Tony said, words slurring just the slightest. They had found something stronger in the cabinets, some leftovers from the past. There was nothing like downing some aged whiskey and brandy. Howard had a good stash.

“Try, try me,” Rhodey hicced. He tried to swig another swallow of his drink and missed his mouth by an inch.

“You—you’re not gonna believe me.” Tony laughed as Rhodey missed again and knocked his teeth hard. “It’s really, really crazy.”

“Tony, come on.”

“I’m in love—at least I think am—with Captain America. Ugh, what did you put in here?”

“Everything,” Rhodey said, holding up his drink. He mixed all the alcohols together, and the beer made the taste a little weird. “And everyone knows that.”

“No, no.” Tony shook his head. “I mean, I’m really in love with Captain America. I met him.”

“How?”

“He’s, uh, he’s not a ghost for starters. I told you there aren’t any ghosts here.” Tony waved his hand to indicate the mansion and spilled half his cup. “And, well, he’s in the library.”

“He’s in the library?” Rhodey scrunched up his face, higher mental functions affected. They had thoroughly decimated two thirds of the booze.

“Was. He was in the library. He’s not there anymore. Fuck.” Tony drained his glass. “I miss him. I keep getting these dreams, and he’s gone. I don’t—no more voices in the library.”

“Tony—“

“I really miss him.” Tony reached for the bottle, pouring himself another. “He—I thought he might be the one, you know. My fucking chest.”

He thumped his chest, wishing the glass would break and that he could burn.

“Tony,” Rhodey said softly. He put out his arms, lap inviting. “Tony, come here.”

He crawled over, and Rhodey held him as he cried.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

_Ah, this porridge is just right…_

Getting drunk wasn’t the smartest idea as Tony woke with a severe hangover the next day. Rhodey didn’t fare any better, spending a third of the afternoon puking after waking up.

“That was stupid,” Rhodey groaned, clutching his head.

“Your bright idea, not mine.” Tony drank some water. They sat in the kitchen, lights off, doing their best to sober up. “I swear. I used to hold my liquor better.”

“Nah,” Rhodey disagreed. “You were always lightweight, even in college.”

“Lies.” Tony squinted at him. “Are we good?”

“I am. Are you?”

That was a question that Tony didn’t know the answer to. His chest still ached for Steve, and Rhodey eyed the fire there, speculating. Tony covered it with a hand, scowling.

“Don’t cheat.”

“Is it my fault you’re a walking moon ring?”

Tony pouted. “Rhodey.”

Rhodey sighed, closing his eyes. “Wait. I think I’m—“ he held his breath for a minute or two. “No. I’m good. I’m tired of throwing up.”

Tony gave him a thumb’s up. Then, Rhodey wrinkled his nose, remembering.

“Was I drunk or did you tell me you loved Captain America? Like the actual Steve Rogers?”

“Steve,” Tony corrected, “but, yeah, him.”

“Oh, good.” Rhodey nodded his head slowly. “Wait. Wait. What’s this about the library?”

“There appears to be an unnatural quirk in my library where the parameters, which I haven’t determined as to what, are so aligned that there is a displacement of time and certain actions that—“

“Not so many words, Tones. Not everyone can think like you do after getting drunk.”

Tony paused. Fair enough. He had aced his exams the morning after, and that was on a three day bender. Twice.

“I talked to Steve in the library. Don’t ask me how.”

“Oh,” Rhodey said, taking everything in stride despite feeling sick to his stomach. “And you’re?”

“I love him. At least, I think I do. Not that I didn’t love Pepper, it’s just—“

“You can love more than one person. You know that, right? She doesn’t blame you.”

“I know.” Tony blew out a long breath. “She’s too good to me. Hey, why don’t you date her?”

Tony could see them together, and he’ll get to keep them both in his lives.

“My ass isn’t classy enough for her,” Rhodey dismissed easily. “So, Steve, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tony tried to smile, but he failed.

“So, you’re just gonna?” Words escaped Rhodey, and he motioned. “Do this?”

“This?”

“This moping around. I can’t tell if this is worse with Pepper or not, and I’m not even going to touch your PTSD issues.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s not,” Rhodey affirmed. “But you can move on. Or are you going to wait around for a dead guy? Is it because you think you don’t have a heart? Tony, you’d always had one even if you lack the obvious physical one.”

Tony didn’t answer.

“Right. Tony, I…” Rhodey turned green. “I think I’m going to get sick again.”

He promptly vomited.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

And because the universe hated him, they dropped a pirate off at his doorstep early in the morning a week after Rhodey left.

“No.” Tony closed the door as quick as he could, but Nick Fury stopped him with his foot. He hoped it broke.

“Stark, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Tony frowned at him. “And if I say no?”

“We can do it the hard way or the easy way.”

“Great. I love threats this early in the morning.” He was tired. Tony was just trying to get by. He finished up the mansion and updated the training stimulations with Rhodey’s feedback, which worked out better than he expected.

“Stark.”

“Please, come in.” Tony crossed his arms, stepping out of the way so Fury could swing the door open.

“I see you got rid of that ugly pitbull,” Fury remarked, lone eye scanning the foyer.

“It was ugly,” Tony agreed. The ceramic piece used to sit five feet tall, ready to greet everyone that entered the Stark Mansion. “But you didn’t come here to chat about my decor.”

“Then, I won’t beat around the bush. I—”

“Coffee,” Tony said loudly. “I’m going to need coffee for this.”

Fury didn’t stop him, and it wasn’t long before he had two mugs of coffee perfectly brewed. Fury had taken off his great coat and looked much less imposing in his sweater and pressed pants. An openness that Tony dread.

“So, what do you want?” Tony asked, breaking the silence.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Obviously. The team can move in. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I’m aware, but I’m not here for that.” Fury folded his hands, eyed Tony with a grim look. “I’m here for you.”

“You do not know how scary it is to hear that from your mouth.”

“You probably don’t remember, but I do know you,” Fury went on. “I remember when you were a kid.”

“So you’ve seen me in diapers,” Tony said. “I still don’t get why you’re here. We already solved the palladium problem. We saved the world a few times, and you started your wonderful boyband. No take backies by the way.”

It was kind of ironic that Tony was allergic to the metal that sat in the arc reactor and ran his suit. He was lucky he didn’t wear the suit twenty four seven and that he managed to synthesize the vibranium.

“I’m not taking you off duty.” Fury raised an eyebrow at him.

“You just don’t want to lose my genius.”

“Yes, I don’t want to lose that. But, you’ve been…I’m sorry to hear about Potts.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony bit his tongue. “A little late for that.”

It wasn’t Pepper. He didn’t tell Fury though.

“Killian was a nutcase,” Fury said bluntly. “If I could have—“

“Thank you for that thought. It really warms me up.” Tony drummed his fingers against the table. “You’re still beating around the bush.”

Fury pointed to Tony’s chest where the blue fire jumped inside, entirely agitated. “Just seeing that fire of yours tells me everything I need to know.”

A cold feeling sank into Tony. Only Jarvis and Rhodey knew about it. That his life was some stupid fairy tale, and that there was no magical cure for him. “You know?”

“Howard was smart, but he was also the dumbest piece of shit I knew.” Fury sipped his coffee, and Tony hated how calm he was.

“Well, it can’t be fixed.”

“How sure are you about that?”

“I’ve looked at it all.” Tony spent his college days, searching for a cure. He didn’t even know how to break it. “My life is one bad fairy tale, and if I had a shot…I already blew it. So, thank you for playing favorite uncle, but it’s not needed.”

Steve wasn’t going to come back. He was going to stay in the ice forever. Tony could…he could accept it. He had to and think of the Avengers. Rhodey was right. He had things to do.

“You need help, Stark.”

“I’m coping just fine.”

“Do you even dare step in the suit? If I call you for a mission right now, will you able to?” Fury challenged.

“Yeah,” Tony said. He didn’t have to think about it. “I can.”

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

And Tony did.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Progress was slow, of course. That wasn’t going to change, and it still bothered Tony to walk past the library, but he could do it.

“Is that all, Mr. Stark?” Pepper asked. There was a tiny smile on her face.

“No, that’s not all.” Tony looked at her. She was good, and this was the second time they had met in person. Pepper waited. “Thank you.”

He put as much emotion as he could in those words. He really did love her.

“You’re welcome.”

Her smile was radiant, and the fire in Tony’s chest burned bright at that. He could do this.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Tony touched the Captain America poster. His childhood room was gone, replaced by a room that fitted him now. He was staring to get the heebie jeebies being stuck in the 1980s. The only thing left was the poster.

“You’re going to keep me company.” Tony told the poster, prying it off the wall. “You have to since I can’t talk to him anymore.”

The nightmares came a little less frequently, and he started seeing a therapist. So, Tony figured he was off to a good start. Rhodey was right. Seriously right. He wasn’t going to wait around. He didn’t when he was captured, and he wasn’t going to now.

If Steve could make it to Captain America in spite of all the odds, then Tony could make it as Iron Man, even without a heart.  It was one of the things he loved about Steve Rogers growing up.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

The library was the last step. Tony winced to step inside to see the destruction he made, but he did. Now, the library was almost finished. It just needed one final touch.

The wall was repainted with blue clouds and yellow stars, and the stairways to heaven were made longer and wider. He hung the Captain America poster from his room on the wall here, where he had punched a hole through. As he studied it, the blue fire in his chest peaked freezing. He was not going to hear Steve’s voice again.

“Okay,” he said to himself.

He clutched the wood finisher in his hand. He could do this. Just this last thing, and then this section of the library would mark the completion of the entire mansion. He bent down to paint the finisher on the wood at the bottom, behind the loveseat. As he got onto his knees and fingered the wood edging at the bottom, he saw it.

There, so tiny, a person unaware might have missed it. There was a carefully carved S+T in the outline of a heart right on the wood grain.

“Steve.” Tony dropped his brush, fingers touching that spot, that little groove of S. He remembered Steve working on the library, restoring it. This must have been...

Tony’s chest fluttered, and the fire swelled high.

“Good-bye, Steve,” he whispered.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

The armor was familiar against his skin, soothing in ways that Tony hadn’t felt in a long time. He kept his faceplate down though as he looked over the crowd of reporters and fans gathered in front of the mansion. He felt a nudge.

“Don’t faint now, Stark.” Natasha smiled at him.

“Please. If anyone’s swooning, it’s Barton.” Tony jabbed his thumb at Clint. His bow was neat behind his back, and in a few more minutes they’ll cut the ribbon.

Tony took a deep breath. He could do this. He was Iron Man and an Avenger. He stepped out to the podium and gazed out.

“Welcome everyone. I’m sure you’re all excited, and I am too. So, let’s cut this short. The Avengers Mansion!”

The crowd cheered and clapped. Tony smiled. Every bad dream, every doubt, and everything he went through was worth it. This was the very best he could be, and maybe he’ll be the good man that Steve thought he was capable of. He could definitely be. This was him, plain and simple.

He was going to rock this world.

As the ribbon was cut, Tony felt something heavy in his chest. It was a strange sensation. Tony pressed a hand to his chest and concentrated. He could feel something beating in his chest for the first time: a heart.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

CODA:

_And they lived happily ever after…_

The Avengers Mansion stood on 5th Avenue in New York, square in Manhattan. It was a place that Steve knew well before the war and the ice, even though he was Brooklyn through and through. He had never imagined that he might see the mansion again. He looked at the grand doors and remembered.

Eddie Smithers took one long look at him and refused. There was no way in any how he would take Steve on as a worker. Steve didn’t blame him. He was skinny and just barely recovering a cold when he went. However, Steve was stubborn as a mule and convinced Eddie that he could do the job. He had the hands for fine details work, and so it was that Steve stepped up to the mansion and started in the foyer.

“What are you thinking about?” Jan asked him. She was tasked to help him settled into the Avengers Mansion. It was more than a step up from the SHIELD’s infirmary.

Steve shook his head. “I just didn’t think this place would still be here.”

It wasn’t true. He knew it would be.

“Yeah,” Jan said, nodding her own head. “This place is pretty old. I think Tony said that it didn’t originally belong to the Starks. Built in the late 1800s? 1900s?”

Jan shrugged. “Well, come on, Cap.”

Steve promptly laughed as he entered. The infamous pitbull was gone. It was the ugliest thing commissioned, and Steve set it in its place to greet every visitor that came to the mansion. Instead, a bust of Captain America with a stern looking face took place to frown at every visitor.

Jan raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“Just remembered something,” Steve gestured for Jan to continue, hiding his smile.

“Okay,” Jan said, but didn’t pursue it further. “I should let you know that JARVIS runs the mansion here. He’s, um, an AI. Artificial intelligence.”

“Captain?” a British voice said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Steve looked up at the ceiling. “I’m pleased to meet you too, JARVIS.”

He vaguely remember the voice. He just wasn’t sure if JARVIS followed the three laws.

Jan walked him through the mansion, taking him to each room and explaining the purpose. Steve noted each change. Where the ballroom used to be was now a high tech training arena. The left wing study had been converted into a conference room, and a general common room took over the space of a long dining hall. There was countless more in the wood, in the cameras set into corners or a simple upgrade of equipment like in the kitchen.

As they entered the next hall, Steve’s eyes lit up.

“And—“ Jan started, hand ready to point.

“The library,” Steve couldn’t help but finish.

Jan frowned. “How do you know?”

“Before the war, I worked here fixing up the place.” Steve looked down at the carpet. He had walked this hall a thousand times. “Steadiest job I had before Dr. Erskine found me.”

“Oh,” Jan said, blinking. “That wasn’t in the books.”

Steve winced. He still wasn’t used to that. That he was a note in history instead of just him.

“Well, not like they could track down every job I’ve done.” Steve stepped forward, hand on the brass handle. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Jan smiled brightly. “If you like, I’ll give you some time alone.”

“Thank you. I would like that.”

Steve pulled and like that he was in the library. The smell of books was still the same, and he could almost hear the hammering the other fellas and him used to do as they worked. He spent the most time here, cleaning out the carved wood and setting in the new panels into the floor. He had even set the shelves, placed the books in order by name and genre. They didn’t think Steve could work the garden or ballroom.

The door closed behind him, and Steve walked forward. Sweat gathered at his brow, and he was sure it was there. It had to be. His heart pounded, and it just had to be there. His fingers trailed against the bookshelves, and he walked to the back, to the wall. It was…

Steve froze.

The wall was decorated in blue clouds and yellow stars, a set of four steps leading up to it. Two bookshelves were lined on either side of the wall with a loveseat right in front. There, Tony Stark slept, lightly snoring away.

He had little opportunity to talk to Iron Man, and the man was here oblivious to the world. Carefully, Steve climbed the tiny steps and knelt on the ground. He looked down at Tony and wondered. Tony looked younger than his forty something years, cheeks soft and lashes long. Steve reached out and brushed back a stray lock of hair off Tony’s forehead, unable to help himself.

Tony stirred. “Steve?”

“I’m here,” Steve said gently as Tony’s eyes opened, a beautiful warm brown. He had never imagined that Tony looked like this, this sweet and…

“Steve!” Tony bolted up, almost slamming into Steve’s nose and chin. He blushed, pink sweeping across his face. Steve savored the sight. “I—“

“I bought a Roomba,” Steve said. “It’s the very first thing I bought, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Tony blinked. Then, a large smile settled across his face. “Lucky for you, I know exactly what to do with it.”

“Read me a story?” Steve asked. Tony patted the seat next to him. They settled against each other against that wall of painted clouds and stars.

“There once was a library…”

**Author's Note:**

> END NOTES:
> 
> Here is a list of fairy tales I very loosely referenced.
> 
> King Midas  
> The Selfish Giant  
> Beauty and the Beast  
> Rumplestilkens  
> Tony’s Fairytale  
> Sleeping Beauty  
> Goldilocks


End file.
